


Glory Days

by bees_stories



Series: The New Team Torchwood Adventures [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Science Fiction, Torchwood Two, ghosts from the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Torchwood Two's days are drawing to an end. When Jack takes some of the team for a busman's holiday to Glasgow to help Archie close down shop, they find there's more to contend with than a recalcitrant Scot who's less than thrilled with his impending forced retirement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glory Days

***

"I know some of you have beds you'd like to become reacquainted with, so let's get to it." Jack looked around the conference table and saw sleepy nods of agreement from Gwen and Andy. Dev flipped a notepad open as Mark and Felicity uncapped pens, and Ianto sipped coffee.

"First order of business. Mission follow up. Medical report. Felicity?"

The doctor handed over a file folder. "Autopsy result on the Artolian. Death was due to massive internal injuries sustained prior to arrival on Earth. They may have even occurred prior to transportation through the Rift, but I have no way of stating that conclusively." She glanced briefly at Dev before continuing. "At any rate, nothing done by any member of the team contributed substantially to its demise." 

"Thank God." Dev looked up at Jack with an expression of abject remorse. "It had gills and all. I thought it was suffocating being out in the air."

"Your instinct was good, Dev," Felicity said. "By nature the Artolian are water-breathers. But tissue analysis showed the composition of its home waters, and the water in that garden butt, were very different. It might have survived if it had been less traumatised, but next time, run a scan before trying any emergency measures." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Dev's guilt hung heavily around her. She was avoiding the sympathetic looks that Gwen and Andy offered by keeping her head down, but she couldn't quite avoid leaning into the consoling hand Mark brushed against her shoulder. 

Jack scanned the autopsy results. The Artolian had sustained the sort of injuries normally associated with a Saturday night kicking. He'd never been to Artol. He wondered if they had ugly pub fights. "You probably put the poor son of a gun out of its misery. From the gist of this report, it was nearly dead already."

Dev continued to avert her gaze, showing an unusually intense interest in the handle of her coffee mug. "I appreciate the effort, sir. But you don't have to try to make me feel better." 

Jack took a sip of his coffee, pausing to savour the bite. "No. But if I want to, that's my choice. Just like it's your choice to either learn what you can from this incident and move on, or keep sulking about it." 

Dev raised her gaze from the conference table and met his eyes. He saw shaken confidence along with her remorse. He came to a decision as he moved on to the next agenda item. "Next. The Board of Governors has decided to withdraw the charter of Torchwood Two and consolidate its operation with ours."

Gwen looked surprised. Ianto shuffled his paperwork, he was already aware of some of what was coming. The rest of the team traded confused glances, as if they weren't sure what that meant to them. 

"I never quite understood exactly what they did up there," Gwen said.

Jack looked down at the official memorandum from the governors and wondered, not for the first time, about the slow but steady stripping away of responsibilities from the Glasgow operation. "Over the years, Torchwood Two has had many functions. But most recently, they've been tasked with acquisition and retrieval." 

Mark shifted in his chair and leaned forward. "Acquisition and retrieval of what, exactly?"

"Tech," Jack explained. "They use whatever means necessary to keep alien tech out of other people's R&D labs." 

"You mean they nick alien gear?" Andy was suddenly more awake than he'd been at any point since the briefing had started.

Jack shrugged. "Sometimes, when they have to, yes. Mostly, they try and beat UNIT and other scavengers to crash sites. And they attend a lot of estate sales. Moving on." 

He turned to Ianto. "Point Number Three. Ianto Jones, effective immediately, you've been promoted to Senior Archivist. You won't see them often, but the four remaining members of Torchwood Two will report to you. Andy, you're now in charge of building maintenance and facilities management. Any questions?"

Jack surveyed his team, watching them react to the announcement. "Good. Final action item. Road trip. I have to go up to Glasgow for the official hand over. Ianto, you, Mark, and Dev are coming with me." He looked at Gwen. "We shouldn't be gone more than a couple of days."

"When do we leave?" Ianto asked.

"I've already booked us on the afternoon flight. Take the rest of the day to do what you need to do. We'll meet up at the airport. Any questions?" Jack could see plenty of questions in Ianto's eyes, but knew they would wait until they were alone. "That's all for now." 

Only Ianto failed to rise from the table. The rest exited, speculating about what the new changes would mean as they drifted out of the conference room.

"We'll be staying at Torchwood Two," Jack said as soon as the room had cleared. He gave Ianto an apologetic shrug.

Though Ianto and Archie had never met in person, they had a prickly history from their dealings with the occasional alien finds that had made their way from Glasgow to Cardiff. Ianto had never gone as far as to suggest Archie or his operatives were incompetent, but it was clear he had ideas on how the Scottish operation could be run more efficiently. "It'll be easier to get through the packing if we're on site." 

Ianto hid his disappointment well. His PDA pinged. He retrieved it long enough to see it was Jack's email with their travel details. "You've booked a car, I see." 

"Yeah. I thought if we're lucky, we can slip away for a few hours and pretend we're on holiday." 

"Optimist." 

Jack gave him a crooked smile. "One of us has to be." He put his hand on Ianto's shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze. "Do me a favour?" Ianto nodded. "My new shirts are still at yours. Will you pack them for me?" 

"I'm still your valet, I take it?" 

Jack's other hand came to rest on Ianto's hip as he stepped a little closer than was strictly professional. "And my personal secretary. There are some things I won't trust to just anybody."

Ianto's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard in reaction to Jack's increasingly intimate touch. He responded by straightening the collar of Jack's shirt before stepping out of his embrace. "Pick me up in a couple of hours?"

Jack nodded, work trip or no, he was looking forward to the chance to get out of town.

***

The Clyde waterfront district was, as the marketing people promised, twenty minutes from the airport. Jack threaded his way through a maze of razed buildings and new developments, all the way to the river's edge.

"This is one of the reasons they're shutting the operation down," Jack said as he keyed an entry code into the security gate in front of a modest complex of Edwardian buildings. The neatness of their white terracotta tile façades was a stark contrast to the tracts of waste ground that bracketed either side of the property. "The renovation of the waterfront is making them stick out like a sore thumb." 

"So moving their operation to some place out of the way, like Cardiff's newest tourist district, is much more discreet." Ianto's comment was delivered in a deadpan tone. "That way, if there's a second Canary Wharf, a few shops and hotels, versus billions in industrial development, won't be considered much of a loss."

"Your analysis of the governors' pragmatism isn't half wrong." Jack pulled into a modest car park and killed the motor. He used the rear view mirror to look at Dev and Mark in the back seat. "Archie isn't a bad old bird, once you get to know him." Ianto muffled a snort of derisive laughter. Jack shot him an irritated glance and continued. "Just try and cut him some slack. Okay?"

He received a chorus of dutiful 'Yes, sirs' as they got out of the car. 

There was a sign posted across the entryway that said the building was closed for redevelopment. They ducked under it to find the security door was unlocked. Jack pushed it open and looked around. The front office was deserted. An out of date computer occupied most of the space on the nearest desk. A telephone and the usual secretary's paraphernalia took up what little free space was left. The rest of the furnishings were shrouded in dust covers.

Jack had a brief flashback to the early part of the '60's and his last courier job. That had been before Archie's tenure as Director. Torchwood Two had been a thriving research and development centre in the days before they decided to centralise operations in London. Back then, the desks had been tenanted by secretaries working away industriously at their state of the art electric typewriters.

He'd enjoyed chatting up those secretaries.

"Archie?" Jack called as they moved further into the deserted office space.

The buzzing sound of a public address system that needed an upgrade filled the room. _"So you've come at last? Well dinna stand around. The door's open. You can come on through."_ There was the heavy sound of a latch releasing, and a door at the back of the room swung open.

Jack looked at his team and inclined his head. "You heard the man."

***

The office beyond the receiving area wasn't much to look at. Stacks of newspaper clippings and paper printouts were piled on a large oak desk and in boxes on that crowded the floor. Book-filled shelves lined two of the four walls. The third was taken up by a pair of flat screened televisions. One was tuned to a twenty-four hour news channel. The other displayed CCTV views of various parts of the facility. The fourth wall held framed portraits of Queens Elisabeth and Victoria. A copy of the Torchwood Charter had been pieced at its centre with an ornate dirk. It all smelled faintly of pipe smoke.

Though it had been several years since they had last met, Archie, as far as Jack could tell, hadn't changed much. He was still a powerfully built man, and he still seemed fit for his years, with no sign of paunch in his belly or stoop to his back. His hair had finally faded completely from fiery red to snowy white, but there was still a pugnacious air about him that suggested he had no intention of going quietly into any gentle good night. 

"Jack Harkness, as I live and breathe. You don't look a day older than the last time I saw you." Archie stuck out his hand and Jack took it, careful not to squeeze the other man's heavily scarred fingers too hard. 

"Clean living and good company," Jack replied. "Speaking of which, I'd like to introduce you to some of my team. This is Field Agent Davina Agi." 

Dev stuck out her hand. "Call me 'Dev', sir. Everyone does." 

"I dinna approve of twee nicknames," Archie replied with a dour expression. "Or short hair on lassies." 

Jack watched Dev's dark eyes spark with irritation at Archie's bad manners, but she took a breath and shrugged. "As you like, sir. Call me Davina, if you must." 

"I shall call you, Miss Agi." He turned to Jack. "Who else have you brought me?"

"Mark Landers, my technical specialist." 

Archie surveyed Mark with the same dour expression. "A ponytail." He shook his head, his face cast in dolorous lines. "Standards, Captain Harkness. Standards." It was quite clear he thought Jack's were lacking. He stepped up to Ianto and peered at him closely. "At least this one knows how tae dress. What's your name, lad?"

"Ianto Jones, sir." 

"Ianto is my right hand," Jack interjected. "He's also Senior Archivist, and will be taking operational control of the retrieval team." 

Archie's frowned deepened. "So you're Mr Jones. You look a bit young for that sort o' responsibility." He stuck out his hand anyway. "Still, I've had little complaint with your work, and I don't suppose I have nae say in the matter anyway. Welcome to Torchwood Two."

Archie dropped Ianto's hand and retreated behind his desk to fill a well-worn pipe. He lit it, took a deep lungful of smoke, and looked up, evidently surprised to see he still had guests. "I've made up rooms in the employee block," he said around the pipe stem. "Supper is at seven. Likely as no, you'll want to unpack and get straight to work chucking me out." He looked up at Jack. "Do you remember your way around?"

Jack hadn't ever been beyond the office, and that had been forty years ago. He'd never seen the laboratories or storage areas. "You'd better give us the tour." 

Archie shrugged and rose from his chair. He seemed disinterested in his role as host. "Follow me."

***

Dev taped the lid securely on another packing box. She labelled it with the inventory code Ianto had provided, and then added the box to the growing stack they'd already filled. Papers and books, old laboratory records and files. It was the stuff that could be entrusted to a moving service, if it wasn't highly confidential and top secret.

Still, packing boxes was preferable to spending more time in Archie's company. His sour attitude hadn't sweetened over a meal of mutton stew. It had been loathsome stuff, full of gristle and bone. Even now it sat uneasily on her stomach.

Tomorrow, she and Ianto would load this lot into a moving van whilst Mark and Jack concentrated on disassembling and packing up the really sensitive equipment that still took up space in the lab. After that, it would be a long drive home. At least the others would be around to help with the unpacking once they got back to Cardiff.

"I think we can call it a night." Ianto stood in the doorway. He held a takeaway bag in one hand. "I think you've earned a treat." 

Dev wiped her hands on her jeans before she rushed across the room to snatch the bag away. The scent was already making her mouth water, but she peered inside to confirm her happy suspicions. "Donor kebabs and chips! Oh, you lovely man. I'm starving!" 

Ianto gave her a commiserating smile. She hadn't been the only one to manufacture a story about a large lunch in reply to Archie's offer for seconds. "Go on and tell Mark. Tell him I'm sorry the chips are soggy, but there wasn't much open." 

Dev popped one of the chips into her mouth. It was true they weren't hot from the fryer, but they tasted like heaven all the same. "Trust me, you won't hear any complaints from either of us."

***

Ianto was making an effort. He was using the blunt edges of his fingernails to tease at the sensitive places along the underside of Jack's arms as he twined their thighs and pressed close. But there was a distracted air to his kiss that suggested his mind was somewhere else.

Jack pulled away and tried, in the near blackness of the bedroom, to get a proper look at Ianto's face. "What's the matter?" 

"Sorry." Ianto's glance darted from Jack's eyes, to the old fashioned overhead light fixture that dangled above their heads, and back again. "I can't get it out of my head that we're being watched." His face fell into an expression of long-suffering expectation. "Go on, tell me I'm being paranoid." 

Jack shook his head. "I trust your instincts. But you saw me check for bugs and cameras when we first got here. The place was clean." 

Ianto disentangled his legs and sat up. He glanced around the room looking for tell-tale signs of surveillance, and when he came up empty, slouched over with his elbows resting against his knees. "I know, but I can't shake the feeling." 

Jack sat up as well and wiggled around until he was able to straddle Ianto and pull him backwards into an embrace. He took the lead as they kissed, using some of his favourite tricks to distract Ianto from his sense of malaise.

"It's an old house," Jack said in a soothing tone as they separated. But the uneasy feeling that they weren't completely alone had infected him as well. He tried to shake it off as Ianto teased his mouth open for another go, but the impression persisted. 

"It's a little creepy," he admitted as he broke the kiss and offered his throat for nuzzling. His eyelashes started to flutter closed under Ianto's renewed enthusiasm. At the last moment he caught a glimpse of something to the side of the bed and he stared in dismay. "It's..." Jack trailed off. He wasn't sure he believed his own eyes. 

"It's what?" Ianto asked. He sounded distracted as he nipped and sucked the skin over Jack's collarbone. Despite his reservations, he was finally letting go. 

"It's haunted." Jack peered into the darkness at a space that seemed slightly more substantial then the rest of the air in the room. The shape was becoming more distinct and familiar. It was that of a woman in post-WWII garb, not young, not old. Beautiful. Confident. Her features were drawn into a curious expression. He was conscious of Ianto clutching his arm hard enough to leave fingermarks, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the spectre. 

"Oh. My. God." Any evidence Ianto was under the effects of Jack's pheromones vanished. "What do we do?" 

"Nothing," Jack whispered. "Just watch." Despite his own advice, he uncovered the face of his wrist strap, tapped a sequence of buttons, and pointed it at the ghost.

The woman walked across the room. She seemed deep in thought as she sat at the writing desk and began composing a letter. She picked up an unseen object and bent forward as if examining it closely before returning her attention to her work. Once the letter was blotted and folded, the woman got up from the desk and walked out the door without opening it. 

Ianto sighed. "It's gone." 

Jack scowled. "I can see that." 

"No, I mean the watched feeling. It's not there any more." Ianto's expression turned sceptical. "I didn't really pick up on an incipient haunting, did I? How could I? I don't have that kind of talent. Besides," he said dismissively. "there's no such thing as ghosts." 

Jack flipped on the bedside lamp and studied the display of his wrist strap. "That wasn't the right energy signature for a ghost. There's evidence of a time shift." 

"So who do you suppose she was?" Ianto got out of bed. He traced the ghost's footsteps from one side of the room to the other before turning on the lights and examining the room more closely. All Jack saw was Edwardian-era furnishings, a floor that needed refinishing under the thick coat of wax, and a very naked Ianto. 

"I don't know." He patted the mattress. "Come back to bed. We'll talk to Archie about it in the morning." 

Ianto nodded slowly and reached for the light switch. He extinguished the overhead fixture and clambered back onto the mattress. Jack shut off the bedside lamp, plunging the room back into darkness. The dip in the mattress told him Ianto was kneeling near the centre of the bed. The warm breath that caressed Jack's thigh betrayed his lover's intentions. He settled against the pillows and waited for the teasing caress he knew was coming.

"What the bloody hell is that!" Dev yelled, her outrage palpable.

Ianto groaned and leapt off the mattress and into action. Jack got a face full of crumpled silk as Ianto simultaneously managed to cover himself and throw Jack's dressing gown to him.

It took him a few seconds to catch up. Jack rolled out of bed and thrust his arms into the dressing gown, cinching the belt as he ran out of the room and down the corridor towards the sound of the disturbance. 

His jaw dropped. There were ghosts everywhere. Men and women in everything from Edwardian attire to post-World War Two austerity fashions, to the the wide lapels and knee skimming skirts of the early '70's, roamed the corridor going about business only they could see. "What the – " he muttered, echoing Dev. 

For the second time in less than ten minutes, Jack yanked the cover open on his wrist strap. A quick glance at the readings showed tiny bubbles of time displacement practically fizzing through the contemporary era. "Don't move!" Jack's throat constricted with fear, and his voice was harsh. "Don't. Touch. _Anything."_

"As if," Dev replied. 

Jack swept his gaze to his most junior employee. She was standing near the bathroom door with one fist wrapped around the strap of her overnight bag. It looked as if she intended to swing at the first spectre that got too close. Mark was standing in the doorway of his room. Jack noted absently that the trousers to his pyjamas, and the shirt that skimmed Dev's thighs, matched. 

"Jack?" Ianto was standing pressed against the mahogany panelling. One of the ghosts had appeared directly in front of him. It looked as if the young man was engaged in an animated conversation with an unseen companion.

Jack edged closer. He reached out one hand as he glanced at his wrist strap. "The readings have stabilised. Come to me." 

Ianto bobbed his head before pressing tightly to the wall and edging away from the chatty ghost. "You so owe me," he muttered as he clasped Jack's fingers.

"That conversation we were going to have with Archie in the morning?" Jack said harshly. "I don't think it can wait. Go get dressed, and then we'll see if we can't find some answers."

***

"Archie!" Jack hammered at the door to Archie's flat and received no reply.

"Maybe he's in the lab or one of the offices," Mark suggested. He yawned and pulled his hair a bit more neatly through its tie. "He did say something about catching up on some paperwork." 

"Yeah. Maybe you're right." Jack took a second and tried to gain some control over his temper. He motioned for the others to follow. They threaded their way around several more ghostly Torchwood employees as they took the stairs back to the main level and then entered the drawing room. It, at least, was empty. "All right, what do we know?" 

"You mean besides the bloody place is haunted?" Dev stuck out her chin. She seemed angry rather than frightened. 

"Strictly speaking, those weren't ghosts," Ianto said. "Jack, you said something about 'time displacement'?"

"Yeah, little bubbles of the past leaking into the present. Kind of like at St Teilo's Hospital. You remember, Ianto?" 

"I read the report," Mark said. "That was a fissure in time that threatened to split wide open." He paused, his round face contemplative as if he was comparing and contrasting what they'd witnessed with the report he had read. "Someone was actually pushed forward out of their timeline and then sent back again to seal the crack." 

"Poor Tommy Brockless," Ianto said softly. "You're not saying that this is a similar event, are you, Jack?" 

God, he hoped not. What had happened to Tommy Brockless had been horrible. And necessary. It had taken Toshiko weeks to really forgive him, and longer for him to forgive himself. He wondered if he was faced with a similar situation if he could make the same decision again.

"There's not enough information to say." He looked at Mark. "We need to set up some monitoring equipment. Go to the lab, see what you can rustle up. Dev, you go with him. Help however you can. Ianto and I will see if we can't track down Archie and get to the bottom of this."

***

"You know after listening to Archie go on about those fatheaded governors and their woolly-headed decisions during supper, I figured he'd be showing us the door, not taking a runner himself." Dev took a circuit around the long granite laboratory table where Mark was currently engaged cobbling together a piece of test gear to measure the time bubbles, and then clambered up on the edge of the table where she could watch his progress.

"Mind the cord for the soldering iron," he said absently, before moving it out from under her legs. "He is a pretty testy old bird. But I suppose if you were about to be chucked out on your ear, with practically no notice after thirty years of service, you might not take kindly to the people sent to do the deed." 

She watched several ghosts going about their business. They all seemed very intent on their research as they bent over the opposite side of the lab table and poked and prodded at an invisible gadget. One of the scientists had a clipboard and seemed very excited as she added to her notes. 

"No. 'Suppose not." Dev couldn't seem to contain her restless energy. She peered over at the rat's nest of circuit boards and wires. "What's this meant to be, then?" 

Mark set the soldering iron back into its rack and picked up a test lead. "If I'm right, it will monitor the temporal shifts. I want to measure the energy levels for fluctuations. See if it's increasing, and find out what sort of effect it's having on real time. I know it doesn't look like much, but it's the best I can do on short notice." 

Dev jumped down from her perch and moved to stand over his shoulder. He could have said it fried eggs and made the tea, and it would have made as much sense. She put her hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "I'm sure it's brilliant." 

He smiled back, pulled a lab stool closer, and patting the seat. "I'm glad you think so, because you're going to help me build four more of them. One for each floor of this building." 

"Mark!" 

"Come on. It's not like I can ask them to lend a hand." His chiding tone was good-natured rather than reproving. "The Captain said to help me any way you could. And if I'm correcting your wiring technique, then I'm not going to be thinking about you dressed only in my pyjama top. And that will definitely be useful." 

Dev felt her cheeks turn warm, but she was pleased. She gave Mark a saucy smile. "That much of a distraction, am I?" 

"You have no idea." He picked up the soldering iron and a stack of components. "Now come here and get a look at this."

***

Ianto's feet crunched gravel as he stepped out of the garage. Inside, a neglected Ford Transit van was parked next to an elderly Citroen. There was also a spectral mechanic from the '20's, who apparently enjoyed his labours, but there was no sign of Archie. He spotted Jack coming from behind the building and jogged over to meet him. "Any joy?"

Jack shook his head. "Not unless you count a couple of half-existent ground-keepers. I don't like this, Ianto. I don't like it at all." 

It was cold, and there was a dense fog coming in off the Clyde that only contributed to the eerie atmosphere. "Let's get back inside. Maybe Mark and Dev have found out something useful." 

They walked in silence back to the main office. Jack let them in, using the old-fashioned latch key Archie had turned over at supper. He paused in the hallway, considering, and then turned the knob and stepped into Archie's office. 

"What are you looking for?" Ianto asked as Jack snapped on the lights and began to rifle through the books and papers on the desk. 

"Archie doesn't like computers. He never did. He always keep an intake log of the finds his people brought in, as well as a journal." 

Ianto frowned. "I thought you said you hadn't done any courier work during Archie's tenure." 

"I didn't. But Archie has always been a bit of an eccentric. His reluctance to give up his books was a topic of hot conversation back in the day." 

"You must have been starved for gossip." Ianto's reply was dry, but he took up the search, scanning the rows of leather bound volumes that lined the walls. 

"I doubt they'd be out in the open," Jack said as he tried the locked desk drawer. He picked up the letter opener off the desktop and considered its weight for a moment before pushing the chair out of his way and getting to his knees. 

Ianto paused his inspection to watch as Jack's face drew down into an expression of intense concentration. "Come on, baby," he muttered. He probed the mechanism for a few more seconds and then a triumphant grin broke over his features. "Yes!" He opened the drawer and the smile dissolved as he extracted a bottle of single malt whisky and a 'I love Glasgow' coffee mug. 

Temporarily disappointed, Ianto went back to skimming shelves. He selected a promising-looking volume and began to read. "This is interesting." 

Jack returned Archie's private reserve back to the drawer and then closed it with a final, disconsolate glare. "What have you found?" 

Ianto held the cover of the leather bound volume up so that Jack could see, carefully holding the book so he wouldn't lose the entry that had caught his attention.

"These are the daily operation diaries. They go back decades. Look at this entry. 19 August, 1922. _The ghost was spotted again. This time he was in the chemical dispensary. It appears to be the figure of an elderly man. Dr W. Blunt reported the sighting. He said it lasted just over a minute._ "

Ianto closed the book and plucked another from the shelf. He skimmed several pages and then handed it over to Jack. "Did your office gossips mention anything about Torchwood Two being haunted?" 

Jack pulled a half a dozen volumes at random off the book shelf. He handed them to Ianto, and then grabbed another stack for himself. "Come on, let's take these back to the lab and look for more ghost stories."

***

"Right, that should do it." Mark powered up the last of his test boxes and yawned. Midnight had come and gone hours ago, and he longed for bed, even if all he and Dev managed was sleep.

They'd had coffee dates. They'd shared meals at work. They'd even enjoyed a proper night out, complete with a trip to the cinema and a long snogging session on the Barrage, but this had been their first opportunity to take things further. The room Archie had grudgingly shown him had been surprisingly well appointed. Mark had looked forward to the possibilities offered by the old-fashioned, but very comfortable bed.

At least he wasn't the only one suffering a case of blue balls. Despite the kerfluffle with the ghosts, it hadn't been hard to miss that when Jack and Ianto had bolted out of the same doorway, they were naked under their hastily-tied dressing gowns. Mark put the thought aside as he pulled his mobile from his trouser pocket and speed dialled Jack. "All the equipment is in place and active, sir." 

The monitor beeped a high pitched call for attention as all the ghosts who had traversed the corridor vanished.

"What the bloody blue blazes is this?" 

Mark spun on his heel. Archie was charging down the corridor where before there had been nothing but empty space. His foot connected sharply with the test box, and sparks flew as it shorted out. 

"Ar –" Mark remembered barely in time to change his manner of address to something more formal. It wouldn't do to agitate Archie in the state he was in. "Mr Mac Tavish. Where have you been? We've been quite worried about you." 

"Worried have you?" He regarded the smoking ruins of the test box with a sneer. "Spying on me, more likely. I suppose young Harkness put you up to this?" 

There was the sound of feet running up the stairs. Mark looked over the landing and saw his team mates, Jack at the lead, approaching rapidly. 

"You went missing and the place is full of time bubbles. What was I suppose to think?" Jack said as he reached the top of the steps. 

Archie folded his arms over his chest. "It's no your concern." 

Jack mirrored his counterpart's posture. "Really? And the people that are bleeding into this time, are they no my concern, either?" he asked in a fair imitation of Archie's Glaswegian. "What happens to them if the bubbles pop and they fall through? Have you considered that?"

Some of the fire seemed to leech out of Archie's manner. He looked less like a lion and more like an old and defeated man. "I just wanted to see things the way they used to be, I was nae doing any harm." 

"Archie," Jack said softly. 

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "He's the ghost?"

"You've been travelling backward in time," Mark said. "How?" 

Archie held out his hand. In it was a small and silver _something_. It could have been an ornate hat pin. There were rows of small dials around its circumference, and a red sphere on one end that pulsed every few seconds. 

"Young Jacob brought it in on his last trip." He looked ashamed. "I know I'm no scientist, and I should have left it for better minds, but look at it. It just seemed another bit of tat for the vault."

"Then what happened?" Jack prompted. 

Archie's smile was bemused. "I was down in the lab, running the scans, making sure there were no surprises. I looked up and I was no alone." 

Jack almost seemed sympathetic as he gently took the artefact away from Archie. "So let me guess. You tried it again, just to make sure it wasn't a fluke." 

"Aye." Archie nodded his head. He looked at them in turn. "You have to understand, I get so lonely. This place. It used to bristle with energy. We mattered! Did you know we pioneered the research on cryogenics? The first successful tests were done here." 

The old man's voice dropped and his accent thickened even further. Mark had to struggle to understand, and he could see his colleagues' faces draw into expressions of concentration as they tried to do the same.

"But that was before Torchwood One got all high and mighty. Lording over the rest of us _they_ were the only operation that mattered. That was before we became naught but their lackeys." His smile was bitter. "How the mighty have fallen, eh, Jack?" 

"You weren't wrong about that, Archie," Jack admitted. 

Archie nodded, his expression heavy with grief. "Now, the lads and lassies, they no come but once in a blue moon, and then they're gone again. Always scavenging. And me? There's no for me to do but wait and hope they bring something that will prove Torchwood Two still matters." 

Jack handed the time device to Ianto. He put his arm around Archie's shoulders and led him back down the stairs. 

"Why do you suppose he did it?" Dev asked.

Without realising, she leaned against him. Mark slipped his arm around her waist, considered maybe it wasn't appropriate since technically they were on the job, but left it there anyway.

"Used that thing with us about, I mean," she explained. 

Ianto looked away from them, watching Jack and Archie descend the staircase. "I suppose he couldn't resist one last stroll down memory lane."

"Why don't I go put a kettle on?" Dev said into the growing awkwardness. She slipped out of Mark's embrace and hurried down the stairs.

"I think you're better equipped to deal with this than me." Ianto dangled the device in front of Mark. He accepted it gingerly. "Word of advice – "

"Ianto, mate, if you say, 'Don't press any buttons', I won't be responsible for my actions." Mark tried to smile and soften the threat, but he couldn't really muster the enthusiasm.

Ianto did smile, although his was contrite. "Yeah, sorry, it's an old joke. Although one that is surprisingly relevant in our circumstances." 

"I can bloody well imagine," Mark replied. "Do you suppose the boss will let me get any sleep before I have to figure out how this thing works?" 

"I doubt it. Time. It waits for no man, remember?" Mark smothered his groan. Ianto really did have a dire sense of humour at times. "Sorry, again. I'll just go see if Dev needs a hand, shall I?"

***

Ianto's thoughts were pensive as he ended his call to Felicity and tucked his mobile away. In a few hours, she and Andy would arrive to escort Archie to Flat Holm. There, he would undergo memory modification. Eventually, he would be given a new identity and assigned to a protective surveillance program. It wasn't the end such a long serving officer deserved, but it was the best possible outcome under the circumstances.

"It needs a catchy name," Jack said, breaking Ianto's reverie. He handed over a fresh cup of tea.

Ianto accepted it with a grateful smile. He'd been using the chill of pre-dawn to brace himself up, and the distraction of watching the waterside surrounding the Clyde coming to life to keep himself from thinking about what could have happened if they hadn't stumbled onto Archie's ghosts. "Does that mean you've determined its purpose?"

"Not really. Our best guess is it's an anthropologist's tool. A way to watch the people of the past without disturbing their native environment."

Jack's arms felt good as they wrapped around Ianto's waist. He leaned into the welcoming embrace, and sipped at the cup of hot tea. 

"A Sneakoscope," Ianto replied after a minute's thought. 

"Swiping from kid's books?" Jack sounded surprised. "You really must be tired. Did you get any sleep at all?" 

Ianto shrugged. "Dev and I napped in shifts. It's my turn to wait on you." 

"No, it's your turn to turn in," Jack corrected. He plucked the cup from Ianto's grasp, took a large swig, and dumped the rest out onto the grass. "Mark and I have figured out that as long as the device isn't used, the bubbles will dissipate and the ghosts will revert to their proper place in time. At least that's the theory. We'll know better when we get some proper monitoring equipment hooked up and run more tests. Of course, it means I'll need a volunteer to stay with me to keep an eye on things until we're sure."

Jack's eyes took on a speculative gleam. "What do you say? There'll be plenty of time to kill between tests. We could check out some of these swank new restaurants? Maybe do a little window shopping?" 

Strictly speaking, they would still be on their busman's holiday, but the prospect was looking more attractive by the minute. "You're sure there'll be no more ghostly interruptions?" 

Jack shrugged. "Ninety percent sure. Maybe ninety-five." 

"Poor old soul," Ianto said. "Archie, I mean. All he wanted was to be a part of the glory days of an institution he loved and believed in." 

"I could tell you stories about Torchwood and its days of yore that didn't make it into the official records." Jack's voice was soft, but there was an edge of ice to it. "They'd give your nightmares nightmares." 

"Better to live for the present, then?" Ianto said as he disentangled from Jack's embrace. 

The sun grew higher, illuminating more of the changing river front. There was an echoing boom. As they watched, a building collapsed, pancaking neatly into a pile of rubble and dust, taking another bit of Glasgow's industrial past with it.

"Much better," Jack agreed.

This story has a sequel: Into the Lion's Den


End file.
